


You're Really Lovely (Underneath it All)

by TimmyJaybird



Series: Show Me the Meaning (Of Being Lonely) [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Dami gets so sick bless his soul, Drunk Sex, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Underage Drinking, onesided DickDami, onesided JayTim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5021932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim knew one thing- he'd wanted Jason, for so long. He'd wanted him, knew everyone <i>knew</i> he did, and seeing his chances completely crushed drove him close to the last person he'd ever expected- someone who felt the same bitter rejection, and had nowhere else to turn. <i>Damian</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Really Lovely (Underneath it All)

**Author's Note:**

> An Anon asked me quite a while ago: "This is just a fun idea I had, Dami and Tim have feelings for Dick and Jason respectively, don't realize their in a relationship until a drunken (probably holiday) party where Dick and Jason start making out and sort of come out to the family (Dick's probably oblivious to their feelings and Jason notices but only really feels bad for Tim). Both boys drink away their sorrows and end up in bed together angry sad groping/rubbing ensues."
> 
> I loved the idea so much I saved it, and finally wrote the fic.

Tim stirred his drink, eyeing Jason across the table from him, as he tipped his head back, swallowed back a shot with a cocky grin on his face. The way his throat moved had Tim’s stomach in knots, had him pinching his tiny straw so tightly he threatened to ruin it.

“You’re about to drool, Drake,” Damian muttered, sitting next to him with his arms folded. He had a bored sort of scowl on his face, the kind Tim was used to seeing if Damian wasn’t in the process of beating someone-

Or staring at Dick Grayson.

“Like you did earlier when Cass gave Dick that candy cane?” Damian blushed, and Tim grinned, took a sip of his drink. “Don’t rag on me when I _know_ you’ve been staring at him all night.” Damian rolled his eyes, slouching further down into his chair.

“At least _someone_ notices.”

“Maybe he’ll get plastered and notice. Show a little skin.” Tim reached over, popped a button on Damian’s shirt with an ease he hadn’t even realized he could muster, especially on his second drink. He didn’t have the best tolerance- but at least he could admit it. Damian’s eyes widened, and Tim snickered, turning back to look at Jason, as Stephanie was pouring them more shots- speaking very _loudly_ , and yeah, she was gone already.

“Dickie, _Dickiebird_ , c’mere!” Jason was turning, yelling as Dick moved back into the room. His voice seemed loud enough that had Bruce been in, he would’ve heard them even from the cave. It was a wonder Alfred hadn’t appeared to make a joke about it-

Tim was sure he was retired somewhere with his tea, enjoying a well deserved night off.

Dick sauntered over to the table- a few drinks in too, and hell, _they all were_ except Damian, who seemed content being only nineteen and not touching anything. He leaned over Jason’s shoulder, took the shot the man was holding, and threw it back, wincing at the burn. Jason grinned, and the moment Dick was leaning over, setting the shot glass on the table, he was turned, sinking a hand into his hair and covering his mouth in a clumsy kiss.

Tim nearly dropped his drink.

Next to him, he heard Damian exhale, very loudly.

“Hell to the _yes_!” Stephanie nearly shrieked- her voice loud enough that Tim heard footsteps, saw Cass appear in the doorway to the room, staring as if there might have been someone in danger. Instead, when her eyes fell on Dick and Jason, she simply shook her head.

Tim felt his stomach dropping as Jason turned, as Dick hooked an arm around his neck, kept kissing him. He could see the slide of Dick’s tongue, into Jason’s mouth, and felt dizzy. Next to him, he heard Damian shifting, dared to steal a glance.

He’d unfolded his arms, was watching with his mouth slightly open. Looking just as shocked as Tim.

“You guys need a room?” Cassandra asked, still standing in the doorway. Dick pulled away from Jason, blushing, giggling under his breath, and Jason just grinned.

“That’s later.” Next to him, Stephanie quite literally _squealed_ , and Tim felt rather _betrayed_ by her in that moment. She knew about his crush.

“Please tell me you’re a thing,” she whispered, and Tim fought back the urge to grit his teeth. Oh, they were _talking_ later. “ _Please_.”

Dick and Jason glanced at each other, before they both started laughing. Dick slumped down into the chair next to Jason, reaching for one of the bottles on the table and pouring himself another shot. “Yeah,” Jason admitted, smiling. “We have been for a while.”

Stephanie clapped her hands excitedly, and Tim watched as Jason glanced across the table, at Damian for a moment, and then at him. Tim held his gaze, and Jason’s smile fell away for a moment.

His eyes said it all. _I’m sorry_.

Well, this would explain Jason taking no interest in any of his advances- especially when Tim knew it was painfully obvious, how into Jason he was. When he was sure that Stephanie had probably flat out told him that Tim would’ve done just about anything to have a shot at something with him.

And those grey eyes being _sorry_ only made him mad.

Tim pushed his chair back, watched as Jason jerked his eyes away. Fought the urge to glare at him- because it was childish, because he should be _happy_ that his brothers were happy-

But for a moment, he was alright being a child.

Tim left without a word, slipping past Cass, who gave him a look but said nothing, making his way towards the kitchen. They’d left a mess behind, random cups left out from when Steph and Dick had been mixing drinks, before they’d all given up and begun moving towards just shots. Bottles were left open, a few were empty- and god, maybe if Tim was thinking clearly, he’d be worried for everyone’s health come morning- but he wasn’t. He just _wasn’t_.

He’d wanted Jason more than he’d wanted anything- and a few times, a few moments, he’d thought he’d stood a chance. Jason looked at him like he _knew_ Tim was attractive- and yeah, maybe Tim didn’t always agree, but he knew from time to time he could have his moments, where he might have been pretty. He snorted to himself, reaching out blindly and grabbing one of the bottles left behind. It was unopened, and Tim decided it was _his_ for the night.

He cracked it open, took a pull straight from the bottle without even reading it- let the whiskey burn down his throat and just didn’t give a shit.

When he lifted his head back up, Damian was standing in the doorway, staring at him. Staring at him with eyes that Tim understood, down in the pit of his belly.

After all, he had to be hurting, too.

Tim held the bottle out, raising his eyebrows. A silent invitation. Damian stared at it, for a moment, before he walked over, took the bottle from Tim and took a big swallow. He pulled it away, coughing, eyes going wide, and Tim laughed- still bitter.

“You’ll get used to it,” Tim said, taking the bottle, and another swig. Damian stared up at him, the corners of his eyes wet- but he set his mouth into a scowl, taking the bottle back, throwing back another swallow.

Okay, so Tim would share the bottle with him. _But only him_.

“I don’t want to go back out there,” Damian admitted, after they’d stood in the kitchen for what felt like hours, years, lifetimes. Maybe fifteen minutes, if Tim was honest- but what the fuck was honesty and reality anyway, in that moment. He didn’t care for any of it.

“Then don’t,” Tim said, shifting the bottle in his hands. “I don’t want to, either.” Tim didn't want to face Jason, his eyes- the _pity_. He was a goddamn grown man and he didn’t need Jason’s pathetic excuse at pity-

He took another swig. It was only making him _angrier_.

“Your room,” Tim finally said, and Damian shrugged a shoulder, before he turned. Tim pushed away from the counter- felt dizzy for a moment, and laughed, a bitter sort of giggle. Damian turned, stared at him for a moment, before he reached out, wrapped his hand around Tim’s wrist.

“Don’t fall on the stairs,” Damian warned, leading Tim out of the kitchen, steering far away from where they could hear the group they’d left behind- still laughing, loud.

“No promises,” Tim muttered, “I’m a little drunk.”

“-tt- a little?” Tim rolled his eyes, but managed just fine on the stairs, following Damian down the hallway, into his bedroom. He crossed the room was Damian closed the door, dropping down onto his bed and pulling his legs up, crossing them.

“Yeah, _a little_. We’re going to change that.” Tim raised the bottle, shaking it slightly for emphasis, and Damian crossed the room, climbing up onto the bed next to him and taking it. Tim watched him throw his head back, swallow once, twice-

Three times.

“Okay, remember to breathe,” Tim said, taking the bottle away from Damian. “You don’t normally drink babybat.”

“And you are gone after two drinks, typically.” Tim didn’t argue, watched as Damian folded his arms, looking angry again. “How _could_ they, Drake?” Tim said nothing, settled the bottle between his legs, watched as Damian reached up, scrubbed his hands over his face, back into his short hair. “Grayson is an _idiot_.”

“Jason too,” Tim pointed out, watching Damian’s fingers twist within his own hair. “Fuck man, they could’ve had _us_.”

Tim half expected Damian to berate him, to elevate Dick up to that god like level he _knew_ Damian held him at- but instead Damian was only nodding. Wasn’t disagreeing.

The whiskey had to be getting to him, already. If the flush rising on his cheeks was proof.

They dissolved into it, complaining about Jason and Dick, passing the bottle between them. Bitter and resentful and _childish_ , neither cared in that moment. Tim figured, somewhere in his mind where there was a sliver of clarity, that come morning they could have some sense about this. Could have some joy for their brothers.

But tonight, all bets were off.

“I should go down there,” Damian said, in between swallows from the bottle. “Should go down there and- and tell Grayson. Look him in his _face_.” His words had a waver to them, and he would sway, from time to time, sitting on the bed. Tim was giggling over it without even realizing. “And tell him, tell him what a _mistake_ this is. And when- when Todd is _heartbroken_ you can comfort him.”

“Look at-“ Tim paused, hiccuping, “-at you, thinkin’ about _me_.” Damian grinned at him, and god, _god_ his eyes were jade and glossy and gorgeous.

Tim thought that might have been the moment he should’ve known to stop.

Instead he took the bottle, taking a long pull from it. “What do we do when it’s gone?” Damian asked, reaching down and clutching at the sheets, leaning close to Tim, into his space, watching him swallow. He licked his lips, and Tim pulled the bottle from his mouth, only to hold it to Damian’s, to tip it and watch him drink.

“We can get another,” Tim said, “If one of us can make it downstairs.” He pulled back, and Damian laughed, a breathy sound before he flopped down, onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. Tim caped the nearly empty bottle, setting it off on Damian’s nightstand, before he flopped down on his side, watching Damian. Watching his pretty eyes that seemed to be searching for something up there, when there was nothing. Trying to hide the hurt, the _real_ hurt. “You gonna be okay?”

“-tt- Is there another option?” It was an honest answer, a little too honest, and Tim wasn’t sure what spurred it on, but he was pushing himself right back up, swinging a leg over Damian and climbing over him, leaning over him with his arms braced on either side of his face. Damian stared up at him, didn’t move- but didn’t ask Tim to, either.

“You can be hurt,” Tim offered, “you don’t have to be okay.”

Damian huffed. “Do you not know me, Drake?”

“Sometimes I think I know you too well.” Tim grinned down at him, and Damian rolled his eyes. He expected Damian to push him off, but when those eyes settled, they just stared up at him, seconds up seconds that Tim swore he could hear ticking away, inside his skull-

And then there wasn’t space between them, and Damian wasn’t staring anymore. In fact, his pretty eyes were closed, and his mouth was pressing against Tim’s- and when had Tim shut his eyes? He didn’t know, but he couldn’t seem to care, as Damian’s mouth moved- wet and clumsy. Tim _liked_ it, though, liked the fact that Damian seemed to kiss his mouth one moment, then seem almost ready to try and devour him whole, before pulling himself back in.

Tim exhaled through his nose, kept himself firmly on top of Damian as the teen’s tongue traced his lower lip. When Tim opened his mouth, let it in, he sucked on it- wasn’t sure if the whiskey was from Damian’s tongue or his own mouth, or if they simply both tasted the same now-

Alcohol and bitterness, broken dreams and a tomorrow neither of them was ready to face.

“You’re a messy kisser,” Tim teased, when Damian’s head dropped back to the bed- and if he was in his right mind, he’d realize Damian had kissed _him_. The teen stared up at him through heavy lashes, half smiling. His lips were wet, shiny, and Tim imagined his own were in the same state.

“Complaining?”

Tim sucked on his own tongue for a moment, before cracking a lop-sided grin. “Nah,” he whispered, and then, “Wanna do it again?”

Damian’s hand was sliding from between them faster then Tim could realize, reaching up and tangling in his hair, pulling Tim back down. Sober, he never would’ve asked- wouldn’t have let this get to this point, whatever this was. But Tim was so far from sober he didn’t- couldn’t- care, and Damian’s mouth was so pliant beneath his, so warm that Tim couldn’t help pushing his tongue, choking on his breath when all he heard was the wet sound of their lips.

Damian’s other hand found Tim’s hip, curled around it, hooked two fingers in the belt loop of his jeans and pulled his hips down. Tim gasped, and Damian took the moment to steal the kiss from him, drag his teeth along Tim’s lower lip as he pushed his hips up and-

Tim was dizzy. _Was Damian getting hard?_

Damian pinched his lower lip between his teeth, tugged, as Tim leaned back, pushing his hips down harder into Damian’s. The teen tugged at his hair, so hard it hurt, had Tim coming back in for another kiss, wouldn’t seem to let Tim even stop to _breathe_.

“Trying to,” Tim managed, before Damian’s tongue was pushing into his mouth. The “kill me” was muffled, nearly lost, and Damian chuckled, hooked a leg up along Tim’s calves to keep their hips close.

Tim should have stopped him, should have put an end to all of this. It was one thing to get wasted in Damian’s room and lament bitterly over rejection- it was another to have the kid trying to devour him mouth first, while grinding into him like they just might have a chance at finding some sort of release.

But Tim didn’t _want_ to stop, as he slid a hand between them, popping open the button to Damian’s jeans. Didn’t want Damian to stop tearing at his mouth was he pulled the zipper down, slid his hand inside, over the heated bulge in his boxer briefs. Damian moaned, pushed up into his hand- and the sound was looser than Tim expected, freer.

“For all the bitchin’ you did about Dick, you still got riled up,” Tim mused, squeezing- and _oh he definitely should stop now_.

Damian tipped his head back, bared his throat as he pushed towards Tim’s hand. Didn’t say a word, and Tim didn’t want him to. He leaned down, licked along his throat, over his pulse, before sucking on the skin. It didn’t occur to Tim that he shouldn’t leave a mark- didn’t occur to him that Damian would have to hide it or they’d have to explain not only their actions but exactly _what_ had spurred them on.

All he knew was he wanted to bruise Damian, until the kid was whining.

Which was what he got, as he continued to fondle him through the cotton of his underwear, as he pulled blood to the surface to leave a nasty mark, before he slid a little lower, worked at another. Damian let go of his hair, clutched at his back instead, nails trying to dig in through Tim’s tshirt.

“You like gettin’ bruised up?” he mumbled into Damian’s neck as he felt the front of his underwear growing damp, a spot of precum pressing against his palm. Damian sucked a breath in as Tim opened wide, bit down on Damian’s neck until his teeth were indenting the skin, and Damian was gasping, thrashing up against him like he might buck Tim completely off his body.

“ _Fuck_.”

“Language,” Tim teased, pulling off, looking at the indents his teeth had left behind. He grinned. Damian bared his teeth, pushing up until he was sitting and Tim was nearly falling off his lap, holding him on as he went for his mouth again. Tim fought back, fought back with teeth and tongue and a pressure that had them both growing dizzy. Damian’s hands moved to Tim’s jeans, working them open until he could reach in- and, bypassing the waistband of his underwear- wrap a hand right around his cock.

Which, if Tim was honest, was far harder than it had any right to be.

Damian chuckled into his mouth, and Tim didn’t deny it, him, anything- he pushed towards that hand, as Damian’s other struggled to get everything down his hips, until the cool air of the room was hitting Tim and he was shivering. Tim let his head drop down, watched as Damian’s hand stroked him slowly, thumb running over his slit. He exhaled, slowly, glanced up-

And Damian was staring down too, transfixed by him. “Like what you see?” Tim whispered, voice a bit hoarse- from want, from need, from desire coiling so tightly even in his drunken state he knew something was _off_.

Damian only nodded, licking his lips. Tim chuckled, reaching down to tug at Damian’s own underwear, lift his cock free. His skin was hot to the touch, to the point that Tim wondered if his palm would be seared-

If he could burn his tongue on Damian alone.

While Damian stroked him, lazy but with a purpose, Tim was curle- he ran his finger tips along Damian, thrilled by the fact that his skin was so soft, burning velvet, enjoying every twitch and pulse Damian’s cock gave him, as the teen bit at his lip, groaned. “Drake,” Damian forced out, through his teeth, and Tim carefully wrapped his hand around his cock, lost for a moment.

Didn’t exactly feel like he was in his own body, like this was actually happening. Maybe it was someone else touching Damian, someone else _enjoying_ touching Damian.

“Tease,” Damian added, as Tim kept his grip loose. Tim smirked, leaning in, head tilted, so when he spoke his words ghosted over Damian’s mouth.

“Is that a problem?” He paused, lips curling into a smile as Damian exhaled, warm breath against Tim’s lips. “You got an end goal in mind, babybat?”

Damian shivered, and Tim gripped him tightly, squeezed as he kissed, as Damian opened his mouth and groaned from his chest into Tim’s mouth. Tim swallowed the noise down greedily, gave Damian a firm, full stroke, as Damian began to lose his own rhythm over Tim’s cock. Tim smirked, reached his other hand down to bat Damian’s hand away, before shifting his hips close enough so that he could get his fist around the both of them.

Tim broke the kiss just to watch Damian’s eyes go wide as he squeezed them together, as bundles of nerves brushed along slick skin. Sober, Tim might have been embarrassed over how wet he got, how much his cock leaked down onto his hand, had leaked over Damian’s knuckles- but drunk he could only choke over the fact that Damian wasn’t far behind him, that it made it easy to rub together while he stroked up along them.

Damian reached up, clutched at Tim’s shoulders, breathing becoming labored. “Drake,” he gasped, eyelids fluttering, and _damn_ had he always had thick eyelashes like that, like his mother? Her cheek bones, her lips- even if he looked so much like his father.

Tim could curse Damian’s perfect gene alignment some other time, when he had the mental capacity to realize he was even _thinking_ about it.

Then, again, “Dr- _ake_.” Broken, this time, with Damian’s hips pushing forward and his mouth finding Tim’s again. Tim’s other hand reached up, gripped at Damian’s bicep as Damian shuddered all over, his breath hitching and Tim felt his cock pulsing right against his, felt the sticky heat of his orgasm, and _god_ he’d just gotten Damian off-

When he came, a second later, it was _because_ of that realization.

When Damian pulled back, his mouth was swollen and wet, glistening as he stared at Tim with hazy eyes and a lazy smile. The kind of smile that almost had Tim laughing, despite the fact that his hand was still around the both of them, that he was filthy.

For a moment, he forgot he was even bitter.

And it never occurred to him that he couldn’t taste the whiskey in his mouth anymore.

*

Tim groaned, pressed his face harder into the pillow as he slowly dragged himself to consciousness. His head was pounding to the drumbeat of his pulse, a beat that had him wanting to crack it open, dig his brain out in the hopes that it might end. He shifted, slowly pushing himself up but no opening his eyes, realizing he was still in his jeans.

Dammit, he must’ve passed out fully clothed.

The taste in his mouth was something horrid, and Tim let himself fall back into the pillow, inhaling.

Except it didn’t smell like his pillow. Didn’t smell like his shampoo, smelled like something richer, heavier- a strange little spice.

Damian’s soap, his skin, his cologne. _Damian_.

This was Damian’s room. _This was Damian’s bed_.

Tim pushed himself up again, eyes cracking open, and next to him, he heard a groan. He glanced, through messy hair- saw Damian curled up, facing the opposite direction. A glance over the teen showed the mostly empty whiskey bottle on his nightstand, and the night flooded back to Tim.

Jason’s mouth on Dick’s. Jason’s grey _sorry_ eyes. Whiskey so hot in his throat he was sure he’d never feel again- and Damian, Damian hurt just like him. Damian _angry_ just like him.

Damian clinging to him like maybe Tim could be the conduit of his anger, could take it in and replace it with something better, for just a moment.

Tim shifted so he was sitting, rested his face in his palms, hid in the dark of it. Oh god what had he done? How had he let himself get fucked up enough to think that Damian was the right comfort he needed? How had he let himself go so far as to touch him, to kiss and want to be kissed- to get of fon the fact that _he’d_ made Damian come.

Another groan, this time from Damian, and a mumbled, “I feel like death.” Tim let his hands drop to his lap, watched as Damian rolled onto his back slowly, stared up at the ceiling.

“Hangovers feel like that.” Damian said nothing, inhaled slowly. He looked pale, especially for him.

“...I think I might be sick.”

Tim was moving before Damian said another word- and maybe it was reflex, maybe it was enough nights spent with Stephanie where one of them woke up with their stomach waiting in their throat- or maybe it was still this strange feeling that they had a connection, now.

They were both hurt and bitter and it _bonded_ them.

Whatever the cause, Tim didn’t think about it. He took Damian’s hand, slipped his other behind his shoulders, gently helping him sit up.

“Inhale slowly,” Tim whispered, even as the words hurt to say, his own skull closing in, two sizes too small for his brain. Damian did, exhaled, inhaled again, and Tim let go of him, awkwardly climbed over his legs to stand up. He helped Damian out of the bed, watched him wobble on his feet for a minute, before he leaned into Tim, pressed his face down into his chest. Tim hesitated for a moment, before he awkwardly reached up, threaded his fingers through Damian’s hair.

It was gentle. It wasn’t them.

“C’mon,” Tim whispered, slowly walking Damian towards the bathroom. Damian stumbled with him, except for the last few steps, where he left Tim behind, running in himself and falling to his knees with a painful _thud_. Tim heard him retching, and stayed back for a moment, trying to give the kid some privacy- knowing how much it _sucked_ , and being rather thankful it was just his head destroying him.

He heard Damian gasping for breath, the flush of the toilet, and took those last few steps, easing down onto his knees next to Damian as the teen rested his cheek on his arm, curled up along the toilet seat.

“I will never drink again,” Damian vowed, and Tim laughed, even though it made his skull rattle.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve said that.” He reached out, ran his fingers back through Damian’s hair. “You’ll be okay.” Damian said nothing, paling again, pushing himself up. “Gonna be sick again?”

He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth, and Tim stroked the back of his head, down his neck to the spot between his shoulders.

“You’ll feel better after,” he whispered, knew it was true. “It’s okay Damian.” Damian swallowed, before he was leaning over the toilet again, vomiting for a second time. Tim continued to rub his back, felt his shirt growing slightly damp from sweat, felt Damian trembling. He hushed him without really thinking, until Damian was coughing, and then his shoulders slumping. “Better?”

Damian nodded, straightening up and flushing the toilet again. He exhaled slowly, and when Tim reached his other hand out, he was pressing his warm forehead against his cool palm, sighing.

“I’ve always hated that,” Damian whispered.

“What? Throwing up?” Damian nodded. Tim snorted. “Don’t think anyone’s a fan, Damian.” The teen slit his eyes open, before closing them again, seeming like he might melt between Tim’s two hands. “Head hurt?”

“As if someone were drilling a tunnel out of Arkham through it.”

Another snort. “I feel you.” Tim stood up, slowly, taking his hands back. Damian groaned quietly, didn’t move from where he sat. “Stay put, I’ll get you something for your head.”

Tim left the bathroom, crossing Damian’s bedroom and slipping out his door. Down the stairs, and the Manor was so quiet around him. Tim had no idea what time it even was- but considering the state he was sure everyone, sans Cassandra, was in the night prior, he assumed everyone had to be sleeping.

Which was why, when he found a half naked Jason in the kitchen, standing by the coffee pot, he forgot how to move. For just a moment he stood in the doorway, staring at the perfect curves of every muscle of his torso, shoulders, arms. Scars that broke his even skin, the sweet tussle of his hair from bed.

Anf, if Tim looked har enough, the bruises along his shoulders, his neck. The red scratches down his back that hadn’t quite faded.

Jason looked over after a moment, and Tim instantly looked away, shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Jason looked _good_ , despite the night prior. Tim, in yesterday's clothing and probably smelling of stale whiskey and sweat, was sure he _didn’t_.

“Hey,” Jason offered, rather quietly. Tim inhaled, let his shoulders relax- and the bitterness from the night before just _wasn’t there_.

“Hey.”

He walked into the room, throwing open one of the cupboards and reaching for the pill bottles, going through them, spinning so he could read the labels.

“Headache?” Jason asked, and Tim nodded.

“How are you in such good shape?”

“Didn’t drink much after you disappeared. Got a bit distracted...” he trailed off, glancing back at the coffee pot, which was bubbling away. “Listen, Tim, I’m-“

“Don’t.” Tim pulled down a bottle, pushed the cupboard closed. “Don’t say it Jason. You don’t need to be sorry.” He sighed, leaned his hip against the counter. “You don’t need to apologize to me for being happy.”

“Yeah well, maybe I could’ve...told you. Before. I didn’t wanna hurt you, kid.” Tim shrugged a shoulder.

“It’s alright. Just be happy, okay?” The smile he gave Jason hurt, hurt his head and down in his gut and the spaces between his ribs and even his lungs. His heart felt numb though, in that moment. Distilled in his chest from the night prior- or simply over it, in some sort of sick way. Over aching already.

Jason smiled. “I can do that.” He glanced at the pills in Tim’s hand. “Where did you disappear to?”

“Damian’s room.” The moment he said it, Tim realized how terrible it sounded- and wanted to take it back. But, well, what it sounded like _had_ been what happened. “He was upset too,” Tim added, “We nearly polished off a bottle of whiskey.”

Jason whistled. “Shit kid, two drinks and you’re out, how are you alive?” Tim grinned. “And the baby doesn’t _drink_.”

“Trust me, he did. He’s upstairs paying for it.” Jason nodded. “I should probably get back to him.”

Sounded like Tim was obligated, like Damian _needed_ him. Like Tim wanted to take care of him.

“Yeah, okay.” Jason reached up, rubbed the back of his neck as Tim turned, grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. “Hey, Tim.” Tim paused, in the doorway, glancing back. “Don’t...don’t think you’re not great or anything, because of all this.”

Tim smiled. And yeah, it was honest. “No worried Jay, I know I’m a gift.” He winked, and Jason laughed, and it felt _good_.

Tim figured it’d still hurt, from time to time- but yeah, he could get over this.

He popped a few of the pills on his way back upstairs, washing them down with water so cold it hurt, but _god_ Tim felt like he could drink a gallon of it. He let himself back into Damian’s room, heard the sink running and found him with his tooth brush in his mouth.

At least the color was coming back to his cheeks.

“Take a few of these,” Tim offered, setting the bottle down as Damian spit his tooth paste out and rinsed his tooth brush off. He set it aside, opened the bottle and swallowed them dry- but did take the water bottle as Tim held it out, swallowing a generous amount before he forced himself to set it pass it back to Tim.

“I feel disgusting,” Damian offered, glancing down. Still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, just like Tim. “I need a shower.”

Tim nodded. “Me too, honestly.” He scrubbed a hand back through his hair, “I should probably-“

“Stay.” Tim glanced up, and Damian was staring at him. His eyes weren’t glossy like the night before- but they were still _pretty_. And Tim couldn’t remember when he had started thinking that.

“Uh-“

“You could just...shower here.” Damian shrugged a shoulder. “After last night...” He trailed off, and Tim swallowed. Yeah, okay, so that definitely hadn’t been some sort of drunk wet dream.

And he should’ve said no. Should’ve gone to his room, showered, and passed out to sleep the hangover off. But there was something about Damian, about the look he was giving Tim- like he didn’t want to be alone. Tim could understand that.

“Yeah, okay.” He sighed. “I should go brush my teeth at least.”

“I have an extra tooth brush.”

Well shit, Tim figured maybe he should just take up a drawer in Damian’s dresser too while he was at it.

He almost laughed to himself- it was a bad joke, but if he was honest, he didn’t want to leave at all. Instead he only nodded while Damian pulled it from a drawer next to the sink, brushed his teeth while Damian turned the shower on. Tim didn’t turn, until he was done, the stale whiskey flavor replaced by mint and already making Tim feel light years better.

When he did turn, Damian had stripped of his shirt, had his jeans open, sliding slightly off his hips. And- Tim simply stopped, simply _stared_ , because he hadn’t looked at Damian, the night prior. Hadn’t taken anything off him.

“Drake, you’re staring.” Tim blinked, clamped his mouth shut, color rising to his cheeks.

“Sorry. Didn’t get to look last night.” And that felt like the _worst_ thing he could’ve said, but Damian only smiled at him- cocky and smug yes, but a hint of sweetness, in the corner, in the little curl there. Tim looked away, tore his own shirt off without much thought, tried to tell himself he could do this, he could.

But he felt Damian’s eyes burning into him, and before he could look, could ask, Damian was saying, “I didn’t get to look either.”

Tim swallowed. Why did he want to shiver?

This was a bad idea, it had to be. And when Tim glanced back, saw Damian had shoved his jeans down his legs, got to see so much perfectly dark skin, littered with scars that had his fingers itching, he knew he should make an excuse. Should leave.

Because this wasn’t how he felt about Damian.

Instead he watched Damian slide one of the glass doors back, tug his underwear down over the swell of his ass- and _god_ , Tim stared as if he might never be able to blink again- before stepping in, sliding the door shut behind him. Tim inhaled, slowly, finished undressing and walked naked towards the back of the shower, sliding the other door open and stepping in.

He crossed his arms, standing back- barely feeling a mist and feeling cold, but afraid to get to close to Damian. Damian, who was naked with his head tipped back and his eyes shut, standing directly beneath the water, looking blissed-out and at peace. Looking gorgeous in a way Tim had never really noticed before.

Damian lifted his head, slowly, glanced over his shoulder at him, before he turned, let the water rush against his back, into his hair. He reached out, got a hand around Tim’s wrist, and gently pulled him closer, until Damian was sliding closer to the wall, and the water was streaming against Tim’s shoulders and chest.

It was hot, hot in a way that Tim’s skin would be red by the time they were done. Hot in a way that was filling the bathroom with steam- and Tim could picture pressing Damian right against the shower doors, sliding up behind him and _into_ him, hearing all those sounds Damian have given up, last night-

Or having Damian push his shoulders against the shower doors, lifting Tim up so that Tim had to wrap his legs around his waist. He literally didn’t care.

He choked, quietly on the images, and Damian gave him a lazy smile. “Stuck inside your head?” Tim nodded, and Damian let go of his wrist, ran his wet, warm hands along his chest, down his belly to grip at his waist. He slid in closer, until his body was pressed against Tim’s, and Tim was staring at Damian’s mouth, remembered kissing him and kissing him _and kissing him_ -

And why wasn’t he doing it now- god why did he want to?

“Drake-“

“I want to kiss you.” Tim blurted it out and felt stupid, wished he could shut himself _up_ , but Damian smiled at him.

“What’s stopping you?”

Tim floundered for a moment- didn’t have an answer, honestly. Maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t imagine Damian wanted anyone to kiss him, wanted anything more than to crawl into bed. Maybe it was the fact that he figured the only person Damian actually wanted to kiss was Dick-

Maybe it was the fact that they had a history of _hate_ between them. And even if it had dissolved over the years, it didn’t seem-

Tim’s thoughts cut out entirely as Damian leaned down, pressed his mouth to Tim’s. It was slow, less clumsy than the night before. Damian’s mouth was warm- his whole body was warm, and Tim found himself wrapping his arms around him, pressing up against him until he felt so snug, like he was a puzzle piece, his edges glued to the final missing piece, to keep from fraying, separating.

Damian sighed against his mouth, and Tim traced the seam of his mouth, was allowed in. Everything tasted of mint, and it was a sharp contrast to the whiskey flavored kisses that had started this all. If Tim was honest, he liked these better.

Damian’s hands on his waist squeezed, as Tim pulled back, gave them both a moment to breathe. “What was in your head?” Damian whispered, and, blushing, Tim admitted,

“You against the shower door.” Damian cracked a grin. “Or _me_. I’m honestly not that picky.” That earned him a laugh.

“That’s quite the jump from last night, Drake.” Tim glanced away, and Damian’s hands trailed down to his hips, thumbs rubbing little circles into them. “...What if I was not against the idea?”

“Which one?”

“ _Either_.” Tim shivered, his hips pushing forward- and he was hard, _he was fucking hard_ , and he knew Damian knew, and-

And so was Damian. So was Damian and the teen was rolling his hips against his, had Tim moaning.

“Maybe not right now,” Damian added, “I don’t think I’m...in the sort of shape for that.” Tim laughed at that- and he could agree. His head still ached, duller now, but it was there. He figured Damian might be in even worse shape. “But it is a shame to waste this opportunity.”

“Oppor-“ Tim was cut off when Damian reached down, and Tim felt his knuckles brush his cock as he took himself in hand, stroking up. “ _Oh_.”

“I want to ask you something...to do something.” Tim only nodded, watched as Damian shuddered out a breath, squeezing the base of his cock. “Touch yourself. I want to watch.”

Tim choked- choked because Damian wanted to _see him_ , and because it felt like a request he could’ve so easily given the teen. By Damian’s smile, Damian knew at least the second part.

Tim reached down, grasped himself and stroked up along his cock, taking his time to rub his thumb around the head. He shivered, tipping his head forward, water rushing into his hair, down his cheeks, riveting along his chest. Damian licked his lips, and Tim let his hips rock with each movement of his hand, his free hand reaching out, gripping at Damian’s shoulder.

He wanted to curl up against him, wanted to feel Damian shudder- and when Damian’s other arm wrapped around him, tugged him in, Tim whined, sitting in perfectly against him. He pressed his head beneath his chin, knuckles brushing Damian’s from time to time as he stroked, heard Damian moan, his arm tighten around him.

Tim wasn’t sure what this was- wasn’t exactly Damian watching him, but he loved every pulse of Damian’s body moving into his, loved the brushes of his cock head against Tim’s belly, his knuckles against his own. Tim exhaled, breathy, turning his face to press a kiss to Damian’s neck-

Over one of the bruises he’d left, the night before.

Damian’s his jerked forward at that, and he moaned, loud, reverberating off the shower walls, and god, _he’d come_ and Tim felt it on his belly and he was moaning _louder_ , hips stuttering as he breathed Damian’s name, following suit.

Neither moved, for a moment. They let the water run over them, catching their breath, before Tim was tilting his head up, lifting on his toes and catching Damian’s mouth in a kiss. Damian returned it, sweet and short, as Tim pulled back-

Glanced at Damian’s mouth, and then was back again, both his arms winding up around his neck. Damian held Tim flush to his body, let the slightly smaller man bite at his lips, suck on the lower one as Damian’s blunt nails dragged up his back.

“That make you feel better?” Tim whispered against Damian’s mouth, watched the teen smirk.

“Yeah.” Tim grinned, forcing himself to pull away from Damian’s lips- even if he _just wanted to keep kissing him_.

“Orgasm’ll do that.” Tim winked. “And as much as I’m enjoying this,” and Tim was afraid to admit it, but _god he was_ , “you’d probably feel a thousand times better if you crawled back in bed.”

Damian’s eyes lit up. “I’m beginning to think you’re inside my head, and it is worrisome.”

Tim simply offered a grin.

Tim found that Damian’s fingers working shampoo into his hair was possibly one of the most soothing things he’d ever felt- and that watching suds slowly rinse off his shoulders and chest felt like a _sin_. And maybe he took his time, making sure they were clean- maybe he distracted Damian a few times with kisses that felt like they meant a little too much, but Tim couldn’t help himself, couldn’t _deny_ himself.

He was beginning to think he had no self control.

When they were finally done and standing naked in the bathroom, Tim had to resist the urge to watch Damian, to stare at the curves of his hips, _his ass_ \- and when Damian caught him, all Tim could do was bury his face in his towel and inhale, try so hard to focus.

Damian only laughed.

Tim kept his towel around his waist as Damian dressed, a fresh tshirt and underwear, and god, nothing else- before glancing at the door.

“Guess I’m going the walk of shame,” he admitted, laughing at himself, and reaching for his jeans, left on the bathroom floor. Damian frowned, still standing at his dresser, tugging a different drawer open. He took a few steps towards the bathroom doorway, tossing a pair of sweat pants at Tim, who managed to catch them against his chest.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Damian said, placing his hands on his hips, “except my bed.”

Tim inhaled, sharply, and Damian _laughed_. He turned, heading for the bed and climbing in, and Tim was quick to toss his towel away, step into Damian’s sweatpants- a bit too long, a little loose, falling down past the cress of muscle at his hips- before he crossed the room himself, crawling into the bed. He stretched out, sighing as his muscles seemed to sing with joy, before Damian was sliding up against him. He tangled their legs together, nestling in against Tim’s chest, and Tim wrapped his arms around him without a second thought.

Second thoughts could come later, that night, tomorrow- a week from then. He didn’t care, right in that moment.

“I may sleep for a week,” Damian admitted, yawning. Tim smiled, squeezed him.

“Same. Though if we do that, someone is bound to find us.” Tim’s stomach set to knots, for a brief moment, waiting for Damian’s response-

It came as a gentle shrug, as a mumbled, _so be it_. His mouth moved against Tim’s collar bone, a gentle kiss. “Let them,” he added, inhaling slowly. “Just do not leave.”

Tim gave Damian another squeeze. “I won’t,” he whispered- because it was the last thing he wanted to do. “But...we’re-“

“Going to need to talk? Tomorrow.” Damian snuggled closer, sighing. “ _Tomorrow_ , Drake. Just...give me this, for now.”

Tim nodded, tipping his head down and managing to kiss the top of Damian’s head. He figured Damian’s still hurt, underneath the ache in his skull, the hum in his blood- he _hurt_ over Dick, like Tim knew he’d hurt over Jason, for a while.

And he didn’t want to leave him, like that. At least they understood each other, in this. At least they had this bond-

And, maybe if Tim was honest, _just a little honest_ , he’d like to see where it went. After all, what did he have to lose?


End file.
